


Terrible names last forever

by ThisCat



Series: Transcendence AU [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, Does the death of the universe count as Major Character Death?, Dream Sheep, Gen, God!Alcor, Lots of characters show up in passing, Lotsa Sheep, Mostly Flock focus though, Nightmare Sheep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4708097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisCat/pseuds/ThisCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alcor and his Flock, from their first meeting, to their last farewell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seiya234](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seiya234/gifts).



> Happy birthday mod S! Here's your reward for helping in pulling me face-first into the only thing that has ever made me write like this. I literally wrote this in less that 24hours and I Haven't Slept. Why do you do this to me.

Burning.

Everything burned. It had always burned, but he thought he vaguely remembered grey trees turning to ash and knowing that those were his mindscape, and without those, there could be no memories, so maybe that is why he thought it had always burned.

For now, though, there was no past, no future, no space or time other than him and the triangle, and everything burned.

It had to end, of course. Nothing can last forever, even if one feels like it has always existed. In the end he came out of his fight victorious, the triangle dissolved into dust, and the only one on fire was him.

* * *

 

He had no way of telling how long it took for the world to reassert itself, and for his memories to come back.

All he knew was that one moment he was no one and the world was a void, and the next he was Dipper Pines again and he was lying on something. His mindscape had been destroyed, which should have left him a mindless shell, but it must have reformed after his victory, because he was obviously not a vegetable. Also, he was in excruciating pain.

Two different kinds of pain, in fact.

There was the physical pain. The one that made him feel like his entire body was constantly being fed through a meat grinder. It should have been horrible, but honestly? It just felt kind of weird. Almost funny. He felt detached from it, as if it was happening to someone else. It felt like slapstick comedy and like scratching an itch, and it was weird.

The other pain went much deeper, and was much worse. His mind and soul had been damaged, he thought, possibly changed forever. Deep wounds were left behind from the battle, and they were healing, were almost completely healed, but they hurt. They hurt like his legs after running a marathon, like a big, fresh bruise, or like a newly stitched wound. His very soul was sore, and it burned. It was far easier to focus on the physical pain.

He did, for a while. Just enjoyed the pain, but then the memories of a certain demon in his body came to mind, and he was suddenly very creeped out.

He dropped the pain and tried to find his body instead, to get a feel for how much was left of it. What he found was a bit of a surprise. It was truly his body now, he could sense it better than ever. He could feel every single one of his trillions of cells. It was truly a marvel, how well he knew his own physical form, but it was still broken. Broken and burned and mostly disintegrated. He had no idea how he still had nerves to feel pain with.

With hardly a thought he fixed what was broken, replaced what was burned and remade what was gone completely. Then he realized what he had just done and was creeped out again, but at least the physical pain was gone.

The mental pain was still there though. He rolled face-up and arched his back in a knee-jerk reaction to a pain he had no way to dull. A thin whine escaped a newly formed throat and he drew his first breath in what might have been hours, might have been days. That turned out to be a mistake as it quickly turned into the desperate, gasping, almost-sobbing breathing of one in great pain. That was bad. He had to control his breathing, also find something else to focus on. He opened his eyes.

The sky was certainly distracting enough for at least a little while. It had a strange kind of duality to it, as if he had different color lenses over each eye, though nothing changed if he closed just one. In one way it was a plain grey with a few monochrome clouds, but in another it was colored in colors he had never seen before. He only called them colors because that was the only word he had for how he saw them, but if he had to describe them he would have named them as something more closely related to emotions.

He sensed something moving at his right and turned his head to look. He was apparently laying on his back in the middle of a huge, grassy field, which also appeared grey juxtaposed with impossible colors. A few feet away from his hand, which lay carelessly forgotten beside him, stood five, no six- seven sheep, looking at him.

They looked like sheep, anyway, but the bright red eyes, the black wool that shone with a rainbow of color, the widely varying shapes and numbers of horns, and the fangs he thought he glimpsed on at least one all pointed to them being something slightly more sinister. Their eyes were also far more intelligent than any sheep had the right to be. They did not look at him as though he was food, though, and he was in too much pain to worry. One of them bleated at another, if the sound of bad radio static and a slight rumble in the soul could be called bleating. It was barely loud enough to hear, but he heard, and he thought he could understand what was said if he bothered to listen.

His eyes met those of a sheep with only a single set of rather small horns, and she, he thought it looked like a she, took a few small and hesitant steps towards him. Her manner was… submissive, he thought, scared and submissive. How strange. What did she have to be scared of? He noticed his breathing had gotten at least somewhat under control. Enough to shape words, at least.

“Hey,” he breathed at her, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

That gave her the courage to step closer to him. She still looked submissive and scared, but slightly less of the latter. Then she leaned down and licked his hand.

His eyelids lowered slightly as she did. Her tongue was wide, warm and soft, and it was soothing on his skin, as if it chased away a small fraction of a fraction of the pain that still permeated his body.

“Good girl,” he breathed, barely even a sound, and she stiffened, and her eyes widened as if he had just told her she had won a million dollars. She resumed the licking after only a heartbeat’s worth of stutter, though, so it was okay. He regarded her as she did. Looked her over. She was only a little smaller than himself, and she did indeed have razor sharp teeth and powerful fangs beneath her lips. From the way she held herself, the way she moved her hooves and tail, he guessed she had far more weapons on her than she showed. She looked soft, though. Her ears were short and rounded, and her wool looked like silk and water. He wondered if…

He rolled carefully over on his side and raised his other hand towards her.

“Come here,” he said.

She hesitated, watched his other hand nervously, but he was in too much pain to think about that.

“Come here,” he said again, more forcefully, and she came to him. He could apologize later if he thought she looked insulted. Then his hand touched her wool and any worry he had evaporated.

He pulled her into an embrace, and she lay down next to him obediently. Then he buried his face in her wool. It was everything he thought it looked like. It was smooth as oil and soft as silk, and she was warm against his body. It soothed the pain. Not by much, not by much at all, but enough to be worth it. He held on to her, breathed into her neck, and carded his fingers through her wool until finally the pain subsided to bearable levels.

He let her go, and she bounced away to stand by the rest of the sheep. He sat up and loosened a crick in his neck. Where was he, really? In the mindscape, obviously, and probably his own mindscape, but why it looked like an open field now was a mystery to him. How long had he been there? How long since he started his fight with Bill?

“Oh, damn,” he cursed softly as he thought back on the last few things he could remember before his mindscape burned and made everything fuzzy.

“Mabel probably thinks I’m dead, doesn’t she?”

He stood up fast enough to startle all the sheep. He had to get back, but how? How does one move from the mindscape to the physical world? Or even from the personal mindscape to the one that overlaps the physical world? He had no idea. Maybe the sheep knew.

“Um, excuse me?” The sheep all looked up at him with wide, red eyes. Really, what was up with these submissive sheep? It was weird. “I need to get back to the physical world, but I’m not entirely sure how. Could you help me out?”

The sheep bleated among themselves a little, and Dipper caught a few words. _Doesn’t know?_ And _only a little_ were the only ones that made any sense. Then one of the larger sheep, with three sets of horns and what looked like an extra pair of eyes, stepped forwards and gave him a little nudge. Only it was not so much a push in any normal direction as it was a push _inwards_ or _through_ in a pulling kind of way, and once he had seen it, the way back was obvious.

He petted the sheep’s head, it seemed the natural thing to do, and made to leave.

“Ah, I see it now. Thank you.”

Then he gave a final smile to the confused septet and left.

“I’ll see you later, I suppose.”

That was the day Dipper Pines died and was reborn, the day he showed up at the doorstep of the Mystery Shack invisible and intangible to anyone but his sister. It was also the first time he met his Flock. At this point in time, he knew nothing of what he was, but the Flock did, because they knew better than anyone what had transpired that day.

* * *

 

Let us rewind time just about twenty-four hours.

* * *

 

It had been a pretty normal day for the nightmare that would later be known as Lolonja. Swimming through the rocky lake and canal systems of its master’s mindscape, it had spent its day eating any kind of small, wiggling animal it came across. That was how its master’s excess power tended to manifest, which was weird, but not really any weirder than his nightmares manifesting as axolotls, of all things. Considering he was a two-dimensional triangle with a hat and a bowtie, it could have been much worse.

Either way, the day had been nothing but normal for the nightmare, and it almost considered dropping by the physical world to influence a dreamer or two, but a certain nugget of knowledge stopped it.

While the nightmare’s day had been normal, it also knew that its master’s day had been anything but. Today marked the culmination of a plan that had been started millennia before the nightmare wandered into this particular demon’s territory. Today was the day when everything had to go exactly as planned, and it probably would. The nightmare axolotl had no reason to doubt its master, nor any reason to care a lot. It was none of its business.

Suddenly, a ridiculous amount of power exploded somewhere near the middle of the lake system. It might have been the beginning of the merging of the physical world and the mindscape, but something seemed wrong somehow. This was different from what its master had described while floating around and talking to himself.

The nightmare swam towards the source of the power, too curious for its own good, always had been, and came upon its co-axolotl watching the most incredible sight. Its master was floating high in the air, locked on a spiritual tug-of-war with a creature that registered as human. They both looked on the verge of death. Its master was more determined and angry than the nightmare had ever seen him, and the human was screaming his throat out, almost literally, and neither of them seemed willing to give an inch.

Around them, the mindscape was slowly morphing, merging with another mindscape altogether, one of endless pine trees and speckled light. At the same time, it was all disintegrating. Forces powerful enough to rip flesh from bone and burn the world to the ground whipped around the combatants, and soon even the nightmares themselves started to dissolve.

They were not scared by this development. If their master’s power disappeared, they would simply go back to being shapeless, wild nightmares in the void, feeding off whatever newborn dreams and other nightmares they could catch. Not ideal, but not the end of the world. Running would change nothing, so they stayed to watch the fight.

They watched until the boy and the triangle were the only real things left in the world. They watched as the willpower of that human boy completely destroyed what was left of their master, and they watched as every force and flame around backlashed onto him, poured into him and filled up every nook and cranny, every scratch and wound left behind by the fight. And then, as his soul did the confusing job of stitching itself back together as something new, they watched as the world reasserted itself from the ashes.

What emerged was neither the deep, rocky lakes they were used to, nor the sparsely lighted evergreen forest they had glimpsed during the fight, but a large, rolling field of grass. The nightmare landed on newly formed cloven hooves, and took a few moments to check out its new form. This form seemed to have more natural weapon than its last one, with sharp, hard hooves, a great row of teeth, and a spiked tail that was hidden, but could be whipped out at a moment’s notice. Add that to the always-present option of growing new limbs at will, and the small, but sharp horns, and it was ready to take on anything.

One of the other nightmares, which had been a large axolotl and was now a big ram with three sets of very impressive horns, looked over to the charred and broken child their new world revolved around.

“ _T͏h͝a͟t̸͜͞_ ̵̡iś̸̨ ̴̕ou͟r̶ ͏n̢͞eẁ͞ m̡a̧͡ś̷t̢́e̸͞͝ŗ̶?̸̨́”

One of the other ones spoke up.

“H͘e̢ k͡i̕l̡l͟ed our̸ p̷r͜e͘v̶iouş mast͢er ͜a̡n͢d t͜ook ͢h̵i̧s p͡ow͏e͜r̛s.͠ Th͝is p͞lace̶ is̢ hi͘s͞ ͞now, àǹd̶ us ̸wi̶th̵ it̸.̕”

The six-horned one scoffed a little.

“I̕͢s͡ ̨͡i̢̨ţ͡ ͘͝evȩ́n̛ ̷̨̛c̷a̶̧͘p̢͠à͘bļe͏ ̨̡ò͝͏f ̢̢ta̶k͜i͟ng ͟c̛a͘r̕͢͜e̷͠ ͝o͞f͏ i̷͝t̸̛s͟el̡͜f?҉ L̕͢ęt̡͞ ҉̶a̸̶͟lo͘ne͏̶̕ ̵̡͞p͜r̕o̕v̸͏i̕dì͡ng̴͘ ̨͏s͜͠us̨t̨͜e̕͝ną̶n̛͜ç͝e f̸or s̸̡e̡v̀͠ę̀͠r͟a̴̴̢ĺ̀ ͏̨ǫ̛f̧ ̡͝ư̕s?̶̛͘”

“Look ̛d̡ow̢n, f͢u̧zzbra͡ìn̴,” said the smallest nightmare there, the only one with no horns at all, and the only one who was smaller than the one who would later be known as Lolonja. “Hi͞s ̶p͢ow̸e͟r m͝ani͟f͘est͡s͡ ͘as g̛r̶a̸s͘s. ͏Have ̷you͢ se͡en̨ what̴ y͘ou’̧r̕e ͟st̕a̛n͞din͢g ̷in͟?́”

The six-horned one looked down, as did everyone else, and the little nightmare saw what the smallest one had likely seen all along. Even with their master broken, beaten and laying unmoving on the ground, the grass grew strong. It took a bite to taste, just to make sure, and yes, that was power. There was enough power in this field of grass to feed over a dozen nightmares. This new creature was undoubtedly their master. Now all that was left was to see whether or not he would be a good one.

The six-horned one kept his mouth shut after that, in any case.

They milled about for a bit, eating grass and waiting, before the new master moved. A slight shudder went through him, and then, fast as an eye blink, his body was whole, unbroken. He might have looked unhurt, but his body curled up in pain and writhed. His breath came out hard and ragged. It was obvious his birth had not been an easy one. His eyes flew open, and there was so much pain in them. The little nightmare almost felt a sting of… sympathy pain? Either way, it wanted it to stop.

The master’s head fell towards the nightmares, and they froze. His eyes traveled over each of them, counting them, studying them, and they had to wonder. Was that hunger, in his eyes? Would he regard them as mere annoyances, or let them roam his pastures? Would he be easy to anger, or lenient? They whispered at each other, wondering, hoping. His eyes met the nightmare’s, and it saw pain in them, deep burning pain, and it wanted… it wanted to help.

Two small, shaking steps were taken before it could stop itself, and it heard a sigh of relief from behind it that someone had volunteered to be the first to test the waters.

“Hey.”

The voice was barely a whisper, but it was the master’s voice, and they heard it.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Was this a trick? A lie to lure it closer? Would the master even need to lie if he wanted to eat them? No, most likely not. It had to be true then. The nightmare stepped even closer until it reached the masters hand, laying outstretched and forgotten on the grass. His eyes never left it. What did he want it to do? There was still so much pain in his eyes, what could it do to help? Maybe touch would help? Better start small. Not the hooves or tail, they were too sharp.

Having decided on a course of action that was most likely some kind of suicidal, it lowered its head and licked its master’s hand. It tasted like salt and pain and traces of blood, and not at all like anything dangerous. The master’s eyes went half-lidded in… was that a positive? That seemed like a positive!

“Good girl,” he breathed, only barely loud enough for it to hear even his voice, and it…

Was it a good girl? Was _she_ a good girl? She was! He thought she was a good girl! Yes! Yes and yes! She had never thought about it before. It was true that she took female form on habit, even though the male was stronger. Was she one of the gendered nightmares? Was she a girl? Whatever, the master thought she was a good girl. She did good, that was the important part. Now he probably wouldn’t eat her!

Then he moved again and reached his other hand towards her.

“Come here.”

He _probably_ wouldn’t eat her. She had done good, right? He said she had. His eyes were still full of pain, though. What if good wasn’t good enough? What if he was going to eat her anyway, just because he wanted to? Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he wanted something else, but she was already so close to something so dangerous, and even the thought of getting _closer_ was…

“Come here.”

There was no refusing him, though. She came as he asked, and he pulled her in close and wrapped his arms around her. She felt as if all her bones had disintegrated again, leaving nothing but a bag of wool and water, but at least she was not being eaten, so that was good.

There were several good things about this situation, in fact. She was not being eaten, for one, that could bear repeating. For another, this did seem to be helping him, if his breathing was a good indicator, and she had wanted to help. For a third thing, she really could get used to fingers combing her wool. Not a bad feeling, that.

On the downside, she was being held capture by an incredibly powerful demon with an unknown temperament and appetite, but, eh. If she survived it, she could live with that. Cuddling was hardly the worst way a nightmare could go.

* * *

 

He let her go about half an eternity later, and she quickly put some distance between them. This was more than enough excitement for one day. Her nerves had almost calmed down when he stood up in a rush and made everyone jump. Then he… asked them… how to get to the physical world?

“Ḑ̡o͏e̷s͏͡ h̀e̡͡ ̢͘real͟ļ̷͞y̷͢ n͏̀o͞t̨ ̨̀͢k̸̡͢nò̕w̶͠҉ ̡̨̕ȩ̵̵v̧̨͠é͟͟n͡͡͏ ̶̕͘th̸͠͞a̴t̕?̶” asked the six-horned one.

The little nightmare shook her head lightly.

“He͘ ͏is̡ ͠s̶ti̢ll͘ very yo͟u͏ng̸.̸ ̢H͟e ͡w͡as o͏n̢ly͟ ̡b̨o͘r̕n̶ ͟a few ̴h̵óu̡rs̶ a̴go͜. Ít͏ ͢i͡s͝ ̶not̕ s̀o ̸str͜ange̸ ̧f̢o͜r ̷him̢ ́t̡o h̸av̶e͟ sm̸all͡ ̢pie̢çes mi͘s͡s̴in̷g.̸”

“Mo͢st̷ likely,” the tiny one piped up, “he̸ w̕i͠ll ̡o̸n͜ly ǹe͟ęd͢ ͢a ҉t͝i͘ny̸ ńudge ìn̴ the r̀igh̴t ͜di͝récti̷on̡ ̴to f̴i̵ńd ͏h́is ẃa̧y.”

The six-horned one scoffed at them, but it did go and give that little nudge, and the master did find his way immediately afterwards. Then he turned around one last time and _thanked_ them. Honestly and sincerely, as if their help was not a given, as if it was not required. And then he was gone.

A long silence followed before the tiny one spoke up again.

“Só ͠tha͡t wa͟s͡ ̢our̨ ̀maste͜r.”

“Y͠ea̸h͟,̵” she nodded. “Do̵ ͘you tḩink͢҉he ̢w̛i͠ll ͡b̛e͘ ͟a̶ ͠góod͠ o̵n̨e?”

It thought it over a bit.

“I ͝hop͜é ͢so͝ ҉a̧nd ̕I thin͠k ͝şo,” it said, “bùt ͏I̧ _kn̸ow ͟_ he̡ will҉ be ̵i̕nt͘e̴res̢t͠i̶ng.̷”


	2. Chapter 2

 It took more than a few days before Dipper realized, before he let himself realize, that he was not simply some strange kind of ghost. It was a hard realization, one accompanied by a wardrobe change and quite a big freak-out, but once he accepted his own demonic nature, his fledgling omniscience started giving out answers as to what exactly that meant.

The sheep that had confused him so much in his first burning hours were one of the first things he actively sought an answer to. This was why he found himself back in the mindscape barely a week after the Transcendence.

Sure, they had been Bill’s nightmares before, and Dipper disliked anything he got from Bill on principle, but these were not small voices in his head or terrifying new powers, these were sentient creatures. Sentient creatures that happened to belong to him, in some weird, twisted way, and therefore were his responsibility. The least he could do was say hi.

The sheep gathered around him on their own as he showed up. A half circle of slick, black wool looked up at him expectantly, nervously, not as scared as last time, but just as submissively. That was still weird, though it placated his demonic instincts.

“Hello,” he said, slightly unsure of what to say in such a situation. “I figured, now that things have at least somewhat settled down and started making sense, it’s about time we got to know each other. Especially since it seems we’ll have each other’s company for quite a while.”

They all visibly perked up at that, lost a bit of nervousness. Oh yes, they had their reasons to be scared of him, did they not?

“How about we just start with some good old fashion introductions? My name is Dipper, though I’m looking for one that’s a bit safer to use. Who are you?”

The sheep looked back and forth at each other before one static-bleated an answer.

“We͡ ąr̨e ̸th͢ȩ ҉n͜įg̵htḿàres҉ a͜nd͏ ̢yo̸u àr̷e͡ o͞ur͜ ̧m͢a̸s͞t͞er. ̨T́hát ͏įs̨…̴ a͘l͠l͟?”

Dipper almost narrowed his eyes in distain before he caught himself. _Remember, these guys still think you might kill them for their impudence or something_.

“Well, yes. I suppose that is true, but I was looking more for names. Do you… do you even have proper names?”

He could not stop the frown that graced his face this time. Names were a basic human right, dammit! No sheep of his should have to go without. Wait, did they even...?

“Do you even have real genders?” he asked.

This time he recognized the sheep who answered. She was the one he had clutched onto those hours before the pain faded away.

“We ̷spo͘k̨ę of it ̀a͠f͢t͢ȩr yo͢ųr͞ f̀i͘r̴st͘ ̛vi̛s̢i̴t̀.͘ We̷ have͢ ͡th̵e̕m̸ n͟ow.͟ ̸M̢e ̸aǹd̡ ̵t̸he t́in̢y ̴o͝n͢e ͞ar͠e ̡both͞ f͠e̸m͜a̡le͞, ̧a͟nd͜ t͞he one͟ ẃit͡h͏ ́si̴x hoŕn̛s i͜s ͠m̵ale.͜ ͟T͜he̸ ͏r̡est o̸f ͘us͝ do not ͏re͡ally ͜ca͡re, ͢b̡ut͏ ͡w̛i̧l̢l ̶g̛o̴ ̶by̢ male͢ i͘f҉ àske͠d.”

She looked very pleased at this, and Dipper realized that without a name, she must not have thought much of herself as an individual before. Well, he could change that at least.

“Well, that is a horrible way to address people. Do you want some actual names?”

Enthusiastic nodding from everywhere.

“Wi̛l̵l̷ ̛you͠ ̶g̴i̶v̸e͡ ̴u͜s̸ ̧na͠m̕e̵s̸,̀ ma͠s̕t̶eŕ?͡” one of them asked.

Oh, man. He did not come here prepared to name seven demonic sheep. He was not that creative.

“How about you name yourselves, and we see how that goes?”

Twenty minutes later he was faced with seven sheep named, in order from largest to smallest,

Groknar the Destroyer,

Grazer of Eternity,

Horace the Hooved Horror,

That of Teeth,

Darcrack, Dreamer’s Bane,

Lolonja and

Killer.

He regretted very much not simply naming them after film stars. They seemed happy, though, and much more at ease than before, so maybe he could forgive the horrible, horrible naming sense.


	3. Chapter 3

Henry had been going out with Mabel for almost five months the first time he saw the nightmare sheep. To make up for this absence in his life, he met them all at once.

They were driving back from an actually very calm and enjoyable date at the movies. They had both liked the film, then they talked about it as they ate dinner at a nice restaurant, and now he was driving her home with a hope he expected would be fulfilled about staying over for the night.

Driving up to the Library, though, he was met by the sight of the whole yard full of black… things.

Now, it had been a decade since the Transcendence. He had lived in Gravity Falls for half a year, and dated Mabel Pines for most of that time. Henry knew perfectly well that just because something is weird does not mean it is dangerous, or even abnormal. His girlfriend’s veritable squeal of joy at the sight also told him there was nothing to be scared of. He still enjoyed having some kind of explanation for crazy stuff.

“Mabel, what…?”

“Ohmygosh, Henry! The sheep came to visit!”

“What?”

“I have to go catch up with them!”

She then threw herself out the car door and across the yard, shouting something that sounded like “Where’s Fluffernutter?”

What.

Why did life always spring these things at him.

Looking closer, the black things actually did look like sheep, though they were no kind of sheep Henry had ever seen before. Looking even closer he could see Dipper sitting down in the grass. Actually sitting, not just hovering right above it. That was worth a bit of investigation.

He left the car, then went over and sat down next to Dipper. He looked more human now than Henry had ever seen him before, and it was almost kind of strange. He was leaning back on his arms and looking out over the flock of weird, sheep-like things with an almost serene smile. It was good to know he could make an expression like that, but still, kind of strange.

“So, you’re physical today.”

Dipper gave him a smile with only a hint of sharp teeth.

“I made a good deal earlier today. Then the sheep wanted to come for a visit, and who was I to refuse them?”

“I see.” Henry did not actually see. He was really just more confused than ever. “So, can I ask about the sheep?”

The next smile he got was slightly more mischievous.

“Oh, they’re mine. They’re my flock of nightmare sheep.”

“As in…” Henry prompted.

“They’re nightmares, and they’re sheep,” Dipper answered, not even bothering to hide that he was being difficult on purpose.

“Nightmares as in, actual bad dreams?”

“What other kinds of nightmares are there?”

Henry did not say, ‘how would I know,’ though he was tempted. Instead, he looked over at where Mabel was seemingly in a deep discussion with a ball of black fluff.

“And nightmares… are sheep?”

“Hah, no, just mine. Other demons' nightmares take other shapes.”

“Oh? Is it some kind of demon hobby or something? To gather nightmares?”

Dipper’s smile went sort of lopsided.

“Mostly it’s just a side effect of having power in the mindscape, but some see it as a status symbol. The more nightmares you own, the more powerful you are. I think the current record holder is this guy named Lexor the Birdwatcher with twenty-three or –four at once. I just keep them around because I like them, though.”

Henry had to ask.

“How many do you have?”

“Hm? Oh, fifteen, now, but I’m getting more all the time.”

They laughed at the absurdity of that for a little while before Henry’s curiosity prodded at him again.

“So, nightmares are sentient creatures? How does that even… I mean, don’t you eat nightmares?”

Dipper looked at him in silence for a few seconds before he sighed.

“I guess I’ll have to explain it to you.”

“Yes please.”

“Alright. So, dreams are like a mashup of strong emotions and a bunch of really tiny snatches of memory with a lot of random things your brain throws in to fill the gaps. The result of that is a pretty big ball of emotional energy. Usually, it just stays like that, and fades away or turns into another dream when the dream ends. That is the energy I eat when I eat nightmares.

Sometimes, though, just occasionally, that ball of energy gets loose and ends up in the mindscape. Usually it’s eaten pretty quickly by the things that live there already, but nightmares, being made out of powerful negative emotions, sometimes have weapons that let them survive until they can absorb, or eat, things that are weaker than themselves and grow stronger. Since they’re made out of thoughts and memory fragments, they easily develop minds on their own.”

“Wait, wait, these things have human memories?”

“What? Hah! No, not exactly. You know how sometimes in dreams you can meet someone whose face is a mix of your grandma and best friend? That’s still your memories of people you know at work, but it’s not exactly recognizable. Those are the kind of memory fragments they’re made of.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Anyways. Demons, such as myself, often control a piece of the mindscape, which’s size depends on our power. Nightmares are drawn to those places because it’s an easy food source. They get a permanent shape, a place to stay and get to feed off the demon’s excess power, and the demon gets access to an obedient and powerful group of familiars and a light snack in a pinch.”

“Seriously?”

“ _I_ wouldn’t eat my sheep, of course, but I’m a lot fonder of them than most demons would be. Honestly, they’re one of the only purely good things to come out of… uh…”

Dipper cut off mid-sentence as one of the nightmare sheep met his eyes across the yard.

“Oh.”

“Dipper?”

“Oh, nothing. They’ve just realized I’m talking to you about them is all. I think I’ll have to introduce you.”

Then he pulled Henry to his feet and whistled.

“Hey, guys. Come say hi to Henry!”

* * *

 

Being introduced to fourteen nightmare sheep by name was a lot more fun than it sounded. It started with “This is Groknar the Destroyer. He has never actually destroyed anything,” and went downhill from there.

“Lolonja. No, it doesn’t mean anything, she just thought it sounded nice.”

“That of Teeth is this guy’s name, regardless of whether it’s actually a valid name at all.”

“Killer. She’s about as snarky as a sheep can get, which is not much.”

“This guy just named himself Sheep, which is actually not that bad in comparison to some others.”

“Terrence, Destroyer of Grass, Eater of Souls, Esquire. He’s the reason we have name restrictions now.”

“This is Fluffernutter. Mabel named him, and he’s never complained.”

“Mabel named Waddles II too. He’s complained about being second place to his own name.”

“And then there’s this guy,” said Dipper as they got to the fifteenth and last sheep, and Henry was fighting not to laugh.

“He’s new, and I don’t think he’s- Have you picked a name yet?”

The sheep shook his head.

“Well, you’re out of time! Henry, do you want to name a sheep?”

“Wha? Eh, sure. I mean, if that’s okay with the sheep?”

**_Ba̡̢͢͟͜ą̷̢̀a̸͢͝h̴̨̛͠h҉͠_ **

«Uh…»

«He says he would love to be named by you. Any ideas?”

What to name a demonic sheep. He had just been through a rather extensive list of what not to name them, but ideas were harder to come by than one would think. It had to be at least a little more menacing than Fluffernutter, but less ridiculous than whatever it was Terrence was named again. Something simple, but striking. Something you could call someone by in conversation and not feel like an idiot. Something like…

“I really want to say Sauron.”

Dipper processed that for about half a second before he broke out into laughter. Loud and clear and almost human. That was another thing Henry had never seen before.

“Haah, ha, oh, man. That’s perfect! Welcome to the flock, Sauron.”

Dipper tried and failed to recover from his laughing fit a few times before leaning on Henry.

“That was great. I’m gonna have you name all my sheep from now on.”

“Was it really that funny?”

“Henry? Henry? Henry?”

“What!”

“…Did you know ‘sau’ means sheep in Norwegian?”

A few seconds passed and then they were both doubled over laughing. Mabel stood behind them with the hugest grin, taking pictures.

Sure, a quiet day when you were dating a Pines was too much to ask for, but weird was not always bad.

He did name quite a few more sheep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I kill anyone's OCs in this by OOC, please forgive me. Remember that I am badly sleep deprived, and people do stupid things while sleep deprived. Like make deals with demons!  
> Seriously though, this thing would not let me sleep until it was written.


	4. Chapter 4

 A few years before the triplets, the flow of new nightmares in the flock slowed down. Dipper had reached his natural limit at a little over thirty sheep, and any new ones had to come with his own growth.

While Mabel was pregnant, he adopted his first dream. This eventually lead to the flock becoming the Flock, working together in a way no nightmares, and certainly no nightmares and dreams, had ever done before, but that is a different story. This is the story of the first dream.

* * *

 

Dipper had seen dreams in the mindscape before, of course. They were small, bright and fleeting things, hardly there before something found them and snatched them up. He had never really paid attention to them before. Their constant birth and demise was a part of the background hum that was the natural order of things.

Now, though. This one had somehow managed to escape with its life, if only barely, and had made it into Dipper’s territory, where he had stumbled over it before any of his sheep did. As if that was not amazing enough, well…

He looked closer at the little ball of emotion and memory. Its memories were fresh, and clear enough to get a vague read, possibly because the one who had dreamed it did not have so many memories to pick from. He picked up darkness and warmth, a faint, red light, the drumming of fingers, the sense of two other bodies, pressed up against her own. Dipper recognized that dream. Would know it from miles away, because he had watched it so many times himself, laying curled up against the side of Mabel’s beach ball-belly. And now it was here, and it was alive and injured and he had no clue what to do.

First thing first, he bent down to pick it up and it took shape in his hands. She, because it had to be a she, was small even for a lamb. She was not the oil-slick black of the nightmares, but a pearly white. Her wool was snow and it shone of gold and pastel. If the nightmares felt like silk and water, she felt like clouds and the finest of gossamer thread. Her eyes met his and they were the brightest of blues, nearly exactly the same color as his own flames, but they were heavy-lidded and unfocused, and her white wool was covered in blood, and that just would not do.

It took only the barest trickle of power to heal her injuries and clean her up. Then came the issue of what to do with her. Well, she was a sheep now, a lamb, why not leave her with the flock?

They were surprised, confused and annoyed, but they took her in and promised to keep her safe, because he might be lenient, but he was still their Master, and his words were law. He felt a little bad, using his power over them that way, but he only had to think of those bright blue eyes to feel that it had at least been some kind of right decision.

A visit back just a day later laid all his worries to rest. The flock loved their newest baby, and they did everything they could to keep her not only safe, but happy.

Growing up among the nightmares, she thought it was a great idea to name herself Star, the Survivor. She never grew to the size of even the smallest nightmares, and she had no real weapons to speak of, but she still tried to start fights for the fun of it. Sometimes they let her win. She was small and vulnerable, but she shone like the sun, and she pulled the Flock together.

She was the first dream they adopted, but she was far from the last. Only a year passed before she was joined by her first dream sibling, and after that there were soon quite a few of them. Sometimes it seemed like they actively tried to be the nightmares’ polar opposites. They were bright where the nightmares were dark, blue where they were red, small where they were large, and where most nightmares preferred to be male, the dreams were mostly female. Where even the female nightmares tended to have sharp horns, only the few male dreams had anything like it, and they were blunt and curled. Where the nightmares had a chipper and lighthearted fascination with the dark and morbid, the dreams followed bright lights and pretty colors unblinkingly, with a determination bordering on the creepy. In the important parts, they were mirror images, though. They all loved each other like family.

* * *

 

Dipper grew older, and the Flock grew larger. When Mabel died, it was at fifty individuals. When Belle was born, it was teetering on the edge of seventy. He was not afraid, then, to leave the dreams in the nightmares' hands. Very few even suspected he was sheltering dreams, because aside from Mizar, the nightmares never let anyone close enough to see them without Alcor’s expressed permission and presence. Maybe they were overprotective, but they had seen firsthand so many times what loss did to people.


	5. Chapter 5

Belle and Onika had already taken off their shoes and jackets before they realized something was wrong. The Sterling house was too quiet. Granted, Belle’s dad had already sent the message that he would be staying over at a friend’s house after a party where he drank a little more than he should, but Dipper should have been home. Not that he was incapable of being quiet, and eerily so, but this was a different kind of quiet. It felt as if they has walked straight into a room full of sleeping babies.

They made hushing gestures at each other, then moved towards the living room. A huge, black demonic sheep laying sprawled from doorframe to doorframe was their second clue that something was off.

Stepping over the sheep, they approached the couch, and found Dipper.

There was another sheep laying on the couch, and he was using it as a pillow. One of his hands was curled into the wool of the sheep’s back, and with his hat still on, he looked as if he had only intended to lay his head down for a minute.

Belle snapped pictures with a gleeful smile that made a shiver run down Onika’s spine.

“Belle, I get that this is kind if cute, but you look like you just won some kind of jackpot.”

“Oh, you have _no idea_.” She barely managed to stifle a cackle. “He used to do this all the time when we were younger, just drop off to sleep without warning, because he didn’t sleep so much at night, but after he got his memories back and went all demony, he stopped completely. He’s the most powerful dream demon in the universe and he _still falls asleep without meaning to!_ ”

“Oh, right.”

It was hard to remember him as a terrifying demon when he had his face half-buried in a sheep.

“Well! Better wake him up to embarrass him properly. Hey, Dipper! Wake up!”

“Wzzn’t sleepng,” came a muffled voice from somewhere around the sheep.

“Were too!”

“W’s not.”

“Yeah, you were.”

“Was no- What time is it?”

“It’s five PM, doofus.”

He lifted his head slightly to stare at her, then glanced at the clock to confirm it before slumping back down on the sheep.

“Aw, damn. I missed that show I was gonna watch.”

Belle snapped another picture.

“Pfff, Bro-bro, how does this even happen to you anymore?”

“There are more powerful forces than me in this place, Belle,” he answered.

“Seriously?” Onika said. “Like what?”

“Like this!” He said, and pulled off his jacket.

Resting on his chest was the most adorable little baby sheep either of them had seen in their lives. It lifted its head in response to the sudden change and _Baaa_ ’d sweetly at Dipper. He scratched it behind the ear.

“You feeling better now?”

_Baaa_

“Well, you should! You stayed there for at least six times longer than you were supposed to, you little rascal.”

_Baaa_

“Don’t baaa me. You’re lucky you’re alive at all.”

“Dipper,” Onika said, having found her voice again, “what is that?”

“Oh,” he looked up from his sheeply conversation, “it’s a dream lamb. Do you want to hold her?”

She drew a breath, then found that her words had escaped her, so she just held out her arms, and suddenly they were full of soft and adorable.

“Where did you _find_ her?” she heard Belle ask from beside her.

“Oh, well, you know,” he started. “I was travelling around the mindscape, not a long trip of course, so hardly outside my own territory, when I came across a new dream being teared apart by a pride of nightmares. Usually I’d have just kept walking, natural course of things and all, but these particular nightmares belonged to a guy I have a bit of a disagreement with, and I’ve told him very clearly to keep his stuff far away from my stuff, so, I had to get rid of the nightmares. After having saved her, there was no way for me to just leave her there, so I took her in. Considering the severity of her injuries, I decided to keep her with me until she had enough power to be fine. _That_ should have taken twenty minutes, but if you lay down with a dream sleeping on your chest, it doesn’t matter who you are, you’ll fall asleep, and that’s what happened.”

“Wow.”

“Welcome to my life.”

“Why’re the sheep here, though?” She gestured to the black dot at the door and the one on the couch.

“Oh! Right. New dream’s part of the Flock now, and they’re very protective, don’t like to leave even me alone with her unless I really insist, so Erschie and That of Teeth decided to come along.”

“I suppose that explains why they both look like they want to kill Onika.”

Her head snapped up from the fluff in her arms, and she did in fact see two pairs of murderous, red eyes fixed upon her.

“Pfft,” said Dipper, “I wouldn’t let them hurt her, but you probably shouldn’t drop her anyways, Onika.”

“I won’t!”

She handed the lamb back quickly when he reached for her. She was adorable, but not adorable enough to risk her murderous guardians.

“Well, I’d better head back with these guys,” said Dipper, before adding as an afterthought, “oh, and Onika? Do you want to name the lamb?”

“What?”

“Belle already named one, or, well, _re_ named one, and it’s a bad idea to let them name themselves, as these two are good examples of,” he gestured towards Erschie and That of Teeth, “so do you have any ideas for a name?”

“Um, I don’t- Wait. Erschie isn’t _that_ bad a name, is it?”

“It’s short for something. His is the only one I ever shorten. No ideas?”

“Belle,” she blurted out, unthinkingly.

Belle and Dipper exchanged looks.

“Heh, sweet as it is, I’m not naming the sheep Belle, that would get confusing.”

“I said Annabelle,” she insisted, knowing no one would believe her.

“Annabelle,” he smiled, then looked down at the lamb in his arms and stroked her head with a hand. “Annabelle, I like it. Nice to meet you, Annabelle!” He turned towards them again. “I’ll be off then, ta-ta!”

Both he and the weirdo sheep blipped away, and Onika was left to wonder about a universe where the mischievous demon was also the good shepherd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember what I said about murders, OCs and sleep deprivation? Yeah, still in effect.


	6. Chapter 6

 Thousands of years after Belle is long gone, the Flock has grown to the hundreds. Alcor remembers each of their names, makes sure to speak to every single one of them at least a few times a century, because Mizars come and go, but the Flock is always the same.

One million years and there are thousands of them. Alcor is not quite a demon anymore, but he is not yet completely something else either. He owns most of the mindscape. Other demons hardly dare act anymore.

One billion to eternity, time has stopped mattering so much. He still speaks with the Flock, still keeps up with Mizar, still craves human company, but he passes time by creating stars now, then blowing them up like a child overturns block towers.

How long it has been, neither of them know, nor care. There are fifty-two-thousand, eight-hundred and seventy-three sheep in the Flock. There has been for a very long time. There is no one around to dream anymore. Mostly they hibernate now, sleeping away the eons. He does not wake them, but spends his time blowing up the rest of the stars, and gathering black holes in his right hand.

At first, it was just to see if he could, but when it became clear that he did, a plan started forming in his mind.

Bill Cipher spent hundreds of thousands of years on his plan to change or break the world. In the time this new plan will take to be complete, Bill’s entire lifespan as a demon could be replayed a thousand times and still count as nothing. Not that it matters, Dipper has time. He has all the time in the universe.

He wakes them when he is almost finished. He wants someone to be there to see as he ends the universe, to watch his final moments. He wants to talk to old friends, because he has been a God for so long now, and he has not felt more human since the last time he breathed.

He explains his plan, and they marvel at it, then congratulate him for finally finding a way to off himself, and for making it spectacular.

“What will happen to us?” asks the one named Lolonja, a word that meant nothing when she chose it, and has meant a thousand things in a thousand languages since, most of them by coincidence.

He does not know, because to recreate the universe, he has to bring all the lines together to a single point, and it is impossible even for him to follow them after that, but he can look at them now.

He looks at them and laughs, because he never even noticed that they were far closer to demons than he is, now, far closer to angels, and he tells them this.

“Will we remember you?” asks another, and again he does not know, but if they do…

They will take care of each other, they swear, and the new world, for him. They will tell his story, along with every other story they know, and they will remember, they will, they promise.

He takes his time to say his goodbyes to every single one of them, because he knows them, and remembers them, and he spends days with each of them, revisiting ancient memories, making up new jokes, the last jokes of the universe, and then he puts them to sleep again, shields them together with the souls of the long dead, and pulls everything together.

Everything burns.

Burning, the world ends to clear the way for a new order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so tired.  
> I'm sorry if you read this story, it's probably cursed.  
> Thank you, anyways. Leave a comment and you might make me happy! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please tell me if there are any spelling mistakes in this, because I am too tired to proofread it properly.


End file.
